Spectacles
by obiweed
Summary: Hermione sees something so rarely that every instance of it is burned in her memory - Minerva without her glasses. Those green eyes never fail to comfort, calm, and eventually enchant the young witch. Slow progression to eventual HG/MM.
1. Chapter 1

**The First Sighting**

The first time Hermione remembers seeing it happen, she was a child full of wonder. And terror. And excitement. Professor McGonagall was visiting her home to tell Hermione and her parents that the young child had magical powers, and that she was there to invite to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The older witch then proceeded to demonstrate some simple transfiguration magic, to the delight, awe, and shock of the Granger family.

Hermione was a precocious young child, curious and devoted to learning more about anything that caught her eye. But that day, she was overwhelmed. The tall, imposing witch (Hermione was shocked that there were women who willingly called themselves that!) with the long black robes, and the tightly pulled-back black hair in a severe bun… Not to mention the things the lady was doing in their living room! Hermione could barely take it all in, and a large part of her mind was willing her to reject it all and flee to her bedroom.

But the older woman saw. She saw how uncomfortable Hermione was becoming, how her curiousity was quickly becoming fear, and she was prepared. This was a normal part of each first visit to a muggle household, and she knew what to do.

Professor McGonagall ceased the magic show, quickly turning everything back to rights, and crouched down to be at eye level with the child. Hermione quickly turned her eyes to the carpet, too shy to look the incredible woman in the eye. But Prof. McGonagall was patient, and when she whispered quietly and soothingly, "Hermione, child, look at me," the young girl did.

She saw an older woman looking back at her through imposing spectacles, reminding her of her strictest grade-school teacher. Hermione's intimidation must have been obvious, even she could see it in the glimmer of her reflection on those lenses. Hermione heard the older woman give a small sigh. Then the professor looked down, carefully removed her glasses, stowed them in her robes, and looked up again.

Hermione does not remember what the professor said then. She remembers the soothing tone of voice, and she remembers nodding along, but mostly she remembers her eyes. Those eyes. Deep green, the color she had never seen in a person's eyes, and so comforting. So knowing, like she understood everything Hermione was feeling before even Hermione could understand herself. That she would be able to see, always, how Hermione was feeling and would help guide her through whatever was to come. In a daze, Hermione agreed to become a member of the next class at Hogwarts.

Later Hermione felt a bit duped. She was still overwhelmed, but the comforting presence of the witch professor was now gone, and she and her parents were muddling along like the blind through a maze. Which also might have dragons and giant carnivorous plants, apparently.

Prof. McGonagall had left their home that evening after attempting to detail all the things that they would need to do to get ready for the school year. She had given them a long scroll with this information as well, and Hermione and her parents had made a mess of the kitchen trying to read that long thing. At one point, her father was reading and taking notes at the top of the scroll, up near the salt and pepper, while her mother was kneeling on the floor doing the same thing to a bit of the parchment that had rolled under one of the chairs. Eventually her mother and father had worked in tandem to transcribe the scroll's information onto the computer, printing out more than 7 pages of information that made very little sense to the inexperienced muggles. Hermione had escaped at some point to hunker down in her room with "Hogwarts: A History", another gift from the tall professor.

When they had reconvened over dinner, they were able to sort of some of the details, but agreed that the rest would have to be dealt with in a manner they liked to call "Adventure, Meet the Grangers!" Usually this title was reserved for family vacations to foreign places, or spontaneous new experiences in the city. This year it would also apply to shopping for school books.

Diagon Alley (the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts!), Kings Cross Station – Platform 9 and 3/4, the awkward (and interminable) train ride through the countryside, during which she tried to make friends with those boys and failed miserably, and the boat crossing to the castle – Hermione barely survived it all, feeling on-edge and about to cry and laugh at the same time. She chattered on to anyone who would listen about all that she was learning, trying to cover up the numerous small and large things she didn't know. She had no idea how any of it WORKED, and it didn't matter what the books said – none of them were specifically a guide for muggles, and she was terrified there might not even be flushing toilets. WHY WAS THERE NO GUIDE BOOK? Because, Hermione realized, she'd much prefer to be sitting in some quiet corner reading THAT book rather than living this adventure alone.

And she felt totally alone. She knew no one except for Prof. McGonagall, and while she was momentarily buoyed by seeing her at the school doors, ushering in the hordes of first year students, Hermione quickly realized that she didn't know THIS Prof. McGonagall. The comforting woman who'd looked deep in her eyes to reassure her, the friendly intellectual who had impressed her parents – that was not the same woman as this severe and succinct disciplinarian. Hermione's one grasp for something to soothe her, to ground her, was lost. Feeling adrift at sea, tossed by the waves of children and emotion, Hermione entered the Great Hall.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Fifth Sighting**

Hermione was holed up in the library, despite the fact that it was a beautiful day outside. All of her friends were enjoying the mid-autumn sunshine, as well as the chance to show off for their visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Hermione, however, was too caught up in worry about Harry to be outside, and besides, she didn't know how to flirt. She was taking this opportunity to do as much research as possible about the rare Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Everything the young student was reading was making her more and more miserable. The tournament was not without its deaths, and even the tasks that all the contestants survived seemed to take more knowledge and magical skill than even Hermione had, let alone Harry. Every year at Hogwarts had brought its share of dangers, but in this case it seemed like Harry was deliberately choosing to risk his life. He insisted he hadn't anything to do with being chosen, but Ron was so convinced otherwise, and Hermione had to wonder. The boys weren't speaking to each other, the first task was coming up quickly, and not a single one of them seemed to know what was going on. Hermione couldn't understand how they had ended up here.

In frustration, the bushy-haired witch lay her forehead down on the book she was reading and groaned. At that moment, a lithe, dark-haired professor happened to be walking out of a nearby aisle. Professor McGonagall heard the groan, saw the stack of books and a peek of brunette curls behind them, and quickly surmised who the melancholy student was. Despite her concern, she had to smile at the angst.

Hermione jumped when her teacher rounded the stacks.

"Miss Granger? What are you doing in this dark library on such a beautiful day?" Her professor pulled a chair closer and sat gracefully down.

"Oh! Hi, Professor McGonagall. I'm just trying to do some research on this tournament to help Harry. He doesn't know a thing about it, really, and that doesn't seem like a wise way to approach it, if you ask me."

Her teacher smiled at Hermione's ever practical point-of-view. Frankly, she didn't see how anything Misters Potter or Weasley ever did would seem wise to this careful young lady.

"And have you found anything useful?" she inquired, knowing already that Miss Granger likely had not.

"Not a thing!" Hermione through up her hands in exasperation. "Except how often the competitors die! Which is NOT HELPFUL!" She let out another groan and collapsed back onto her books. Minerva smirked, but was careful not to let Hermione see her.

"Miss Granger," she began, firmly but she hoped gently. "Have you found nothing helpful whatsoever? Is there no pattern you can find?"

"Yes, the tasks are all hideous and dangerous." This was mumbled grouchily into the book, the paper absorbing most of the sound.

"Miss Granger, do sit up." Firmly but gently, she hoped. Minerva often questioned her ability to comfort her students. Nurturing wasn't her thing, but she couldn't let one of her favorite Gryffindors wallow this way.

Hermione shook her head, her curls rustling back and forth across the desk and the books.

"No. It's hopeless." More moaning ensued.

Minerva sighed and removed her glasses. She placed her head down on the table, sideways to look at her student.

"It's not hopeless. Nothing ever is, especially for one as resourceful as you are. You are even taking in that book right through your head."

The young woman started, surprised to hear her teacher's voice so close to her. She turned her head and brushed the curls out of her face to find those beautiful green eyes sparkling at her with mirth. Hermione smiled, embarrassed, but also beginning to laugh at herself. The two started giggling, then laughing in earnest, sitting up and leaning back in their chairs.

Minerva tilted her head back, let out a "whoo…" and wiped her eyes. Hermione watched her, shaking her head at her own drama. However, she was also enchanted by this unguarded moment with this amazing woman, and did not want to do anything to stop it. But all too soon, Professor McGonagall put her wire-rim frames back on her nose. While her eyes still radiated amusement, they were once again her professor's eyes. Hermione nodded her understanding, both at the end of the moment and at the encouragement she had just received.

"I'll keep looking. I'm sure I will find something useful."

"You know, you may have already. Sometimes just taking a moment to think over what you've learned is the key to finding the answers. And sunshine often helps with that, I've found." Prof. McGonagall looked meaningfully at the young woman.

"I'll get out there. I will. Just a little more time in here, I promise." Hermione looked back down at her books, finding it suddenly hard to look into her teacher's eyes, even with the barrier of those glasses.

"I shall hold you to that promise, Miss Granger. Have a very pleasant rest of your afternoon." With that, the dark-haired professor rose gracefully, put her chair back to its original location, and walked purposefully away. She was unaware of the eyes that followed her departure, as was the student unaware how intently she was watching.

Hermione blinked and then turned back to her books, determined to research purposefully for only ten more minutes. She did not want to follow her professor out of the library, but she was not able to concentrate any longer.

As she was just about to finish up, however, one thing did catch her eye. _A ball, to celebrate the bringing of the three schools together. There's to be a dance!_

As Hermione put the books back on their shelves, she pondered that event, wondering if she'd go, if she'd have a date, and above all, if the teachers also dressed up. _She'd look wonderful in green…_

 _A/N: Feedback would be lovely! Shall I continue this? I put the events out of order, so as to offer hope to those HG/MM fans - otherwise we'd be hanging out in pre-teen world for awhile. However, I do plan to go back there for a few chapters. Thoughts?_


End file.
